Back in 2008, when I was competing in the US Open, I would keep little match books, where Id write affirmations to myself and read them during matches. It worked pretty well. But before long I found an even better way to inspire myself: I started using affirmations as the passwords to my phone and my computer. (No, Im not going to tell you what my current affirmation is!) You should try it. Youll be surprised how many times a day you log in and have an opportunity to trigger that positivity. I love that I can use technology that way.

Serena Williams, November 2015.Platon

Heres one of the affirmations I gave myself when I was younger: I will work in Africa and help kids and help people. And I did. I opened a school in Kenya in 2008 and a second in 2010. Now, sometimes in Africa they send only the boys to school. So we had a strict rule that our schools had to be at least 40 percent girls. It was impossible to get 50-50 boys to girls, and we really had to fight for 60-40. But we got it.

Equality is important. In the NFL, they have something called the Rooney rule. It says that teams have to interview minority candidates for senior jobs. Its a rule that companies in Silicon Valley are starting to follow too, and thats great. But we need to see more women and people of different colors and nationalities in tech. Thats the reason I wanted to do this issue with WIRED—Im a black woman, and I am in a sport that wasnt really meant for black people. And while tennis isnt really about the future, Silicon Valley sure is. I want young people to look at the trailblazers weve assembled below and be inspired. I hope they eventually become trailblazers themselves. Together we can change the future.

So to those of you involved in equality movements like Black Lives Matter, I say this: Keep it up. Dont let those trolls stop you. Weve been through so much for so many centuries, and we shall overcome this too (see Get Up, Stand Up). To other people, I say: When someones harassing someone else, speak up! J. K. Rowling spoke up for me this summer, and it was an amazing feeling—I thought, well, I can speak up too.

And when were not talking, we can get coding. Adria Richards (see Take Back the Net) has suggested solutions to online harassment, including my favorite, Send-a-Puppy, where youd send a digital doggy to support someone whos being harassed. And we can champion efforts that get kids interested in computers, efforts like Kimberly Bryants Black Girls Code.

Nothing like Black Girls Code existed when I was growing up. (And I know what its like to be interested in a field where the other kids dont look like you.) So I think were making progress. But we can keep working even more to increase equality—whether its making sure to interview black candidates for tech jobs or standing up to cyberbullying or making sure that our technology is designed by all kinds of people. Eventually were going to make the world better. For everyone. And hopefully my next school will be 50-50. —As told to Sarah Fallon

The Trailblazers

Back in 2003, I was living in San Francisco and dating a guy. Soon enough we found ourselves in the bedroom. This, of course, meant that I needed to talk with him about my gender history. I was young and still finding myself and said, “I have to tell you something.” I then explained I had been born a boy, even though, in truth, I never felt like a boy. I felt a sense of shame around the whole thing. He didn’t react well. “Come on, I’ll drive you home,” was his quick reply. Let me tell you, that was one silent ride. Right before he dropped me off, he looked over at me and said, “That’s why your knees are too big.” It was awful.

A couple of years later, I moved to New York City by myself and started working to become a model. Slowly, that experience—of being alone in a large metropolis, of getting rejected for modeling jobs and having to go right back out and try again, of eventually starting to succeed—developed my character. I gradually became more confident in who I was and less concerned with the biases of others. I stopped apologizing.

In 2007 I began dating a new guy. This time when I felt it necessary to discuss my gender history, I didn’t let myself do it from a place of shame. Instead it came from a place of pride and power. I said, “Look, I really like you and I want to take this relationship to the next level, but I have to share with you what I’ve been through.” I then explained how I had been assigned boy at birth but never felt that way. How I grew up poor in the Philippines and emigrated to the US and had to go through the process of discovering who I was. I owned my own experience.

The reaction this time was different. “That’s the most inspiring story I’ve ever heard,” he said. “I love you no matter what you’ve been through.” It brought us closer.

To this day, when I talk about my gender, I think of it as sharing my experience. If I say that I need to tell somebody something, there’s an implication that I’ve been lying to them. But sharing my experience gives me agency. This small change in approach accompanied a change in how I view myself. I am proud of the woman I am, and I won’t let anyone change that.—As told to Robert Capps

HAIR BY LEAH GEZELLE QUALLS; MAKEUP BY CETINE

Robyn Twomey

Mary Meeker

Venture Capitalist

Meeker is a partner at Kleiner Perkins.

On Wall Street at Morgan Stanley in the early 90s, I thought I would succeed or fail solely on my own merits. Thats the way it worked when I was a kid, playing sports like tennis and basketball while growing up in Indiana. Wall Street was an intense, male-dominated place. But I didnt think much about it at all. It was what it was.

I later moved to California, joining the venture capital firm Kleiner Perkins. We invested in Square, the online-payments company cofounded in 2009 by Jack Dorsey, who was also one of the founders of Twitter. I serve on Squares board, and I took notice of how Jack built the management team. In 2014, Square recruited Alyssa Henry from Amazon to run engineering. She was the third woman on an eight-person executive team, and I saw firsthand how the relationships of these three women quickly evolved to be very collaborative and powerful. It was exciting to watch.

While sitting in a board meeting, I suddenly appreciated that Jacks efforts mirrored what I had experienced early in my career at Morgan Stanley, after a small group of senior execs worked to actively recruit and develop female leaders. They didnt just find the right talent—they ensured we got to know one another in business and personal settings and developed trust. They set a tone where we were encouraged to take calculated risks, with an implicit understanding that someone had our backs.

What Ive learned? Success is not random. Leadership matters. The words “I have your back” can be magic when they are backed up with actions. An environment of trust can bring out the best in people.

As people of color, we have always faced issues of erasure: Either our stories are never told or theyre told by everybody but us. But in this moment weve become the unerased. Because of Twitter, Facebook, Vine, and Instagram, were able not only to push back against dominant-culture narratives, but also to talk to each other differently.

I met Johnetta “Netta” Elzie (at right in photo) on Twitter. She and I knew each other digitally before we knew each other in person, and we trusted each other there first. And now were together all the time.

There was this one night when Netta was going to a protest in St. Louis—the night VonDerrit Myers was killed—and I was not in town. We were on the phone as she was heading to the protest. We didnt know what was going to happen, and out of the blue she just started sending me all the passwords to all of her accounts, so I would have that information in case something happened to her. Thats how close we were and are.

Over the past year, weve seen people across the country use technology and social media to build relationships, relationships that have been essential to pressing for change and surfacing stories on all levels. In this moment, our access to information—and to each other—is unparalleled.—As told to John Gravois

Emily Shur

Geena Rocero

Back in 2003, I was living in San Francisco and dating a guy. Soon enough we found ourselves in the bedroom. This, of course, meant that I needed to talk with him about my gender history. I was young and still finding myself and said, “I have to tell you something.” I then explained I had been born a boy, even though, in truth, I never felt like a boy. I felt a sense of shame around the whole thing. He didn’t react well. “Come on, I’ll drive you home,” was his quick reply. Let me tell you, that was one silent ride. Right before he dropped me off, he looked over at me and said, “That’s why your knees are too big.” It was awful.

A couple of years later, I moved to New York City by myself and started working to become a model. Slowly, that experience—of being alone in a large metropolis, of getting rejected for modeling jobs and having to go right back out and try again, of eventually starting to succeed—developed my character. I gradually became more confident in who I was and less concerned with the biases of others. I stopped apologizing.

In 2007 I began dating a new guy. This time when I felt it necessary to discuss my gender history, I didn’t let myself do it from a place of shame. Instead it came from a place of pride and power. I said, “Look, I really like you and I want to take this relationship to the next level, but I have to share with you what I’ve been through.” I then explained how I had been assigned boy at birth but never felt that way. How I grew up poor in the Philippines and emigrated to the US and had to go through the process of discovering who I was. I owned my own experience.

The reaction this time was different. “That’s the most inspiring story I’ve ever heard,” he said. “I love you no matter what you’ve been through.” It brought us closer.

To this day, when I talk about my gender, I think of it as sharing my experience. If I say that I need to tell somebody something, there’s an implication that I’ve been lying to them. But sharing my experience gives me agency. This small change in approach accompanied a change in how I view myself. I am proud of the woman I am, and I won’t let anyone change that.—As told to Robert Capps

HAIR BY LEAH GEZELLE QUALLS; MAKEUP BY CETINE

Robyn Twomey

Mary Meeker

Venture Capitalist

Meeker is a partner at Kleiner Perkins.

On Wall Street at Morgan Stanley in the early 90s, I thought I would succeed or fail solely on my own merits. Thats the way it worked when I was a kid, playing sports like tennis and basketball while growing up in Indiana. Wall Street was an intense, male-dominated place. But I didnt think much about it at all. It was what it was.

I later moved to California, joining the venture capital firm Kleiner Perkins. We invested in Square, the online-payments company cofounded in 2009 by Jack Dorsey, who was also one of the founders of Twitter. I serve on Squares board, and I took notice of how Jack built the management team. In 2014, Square recruited Alyssa Henry from Amazon to run engineering. She was the third woman on an eight-person executive team, and I saw firsthand how the relationships of these three women quickly evolved to be very collaborative and powerful. It was exciting to watch.

While sitting in a board meeting, I suddenly appreciated that Jacks efforts mirrored what I had experienced early in my career at Morgan Stanley, after a small group of senior execs worked to actively recruit and develop female leaders. They didnt just find the right talent—they ensured we got to know one another in business and personal settings and developed trust. They set a tone where we were encouraged to take calculated risks, with an implicit understanding that someone had our backs.

What Ive learned? Success is not random. Leadership matters. The words “I have your back” can be magic when they are backed up with actions. An environment of trust can bring out the best in people.

Elinor Carucci

DeRay Mckesson

As people of color, we have always faced issues of erasure: Either our stories are never told or theyre told by everybody but us. But in this moment weve become the unerased. Because of Twitter, Facebook, Vine, and Instagram, were able not only to push back against dominant-culture narratives, but also to talk to each other differently.

I met Johnetta “Netta” Elzie (at right in photo) on Twitter. She and I knew each other digitally before we knew each other in person, and we trusted each other there first. And now were together all the time.

There was this one night when Netta was going to a protest in St. Louis—the night VonDerrit Myers was killed—and I was not in town. We were on the phone as she was heading to the protest. We didnt know what was going to happen, and out of the blue she just started sending me all the passwords to all of her accounts, so I would have that information in case something happened to her. Thats how close we were and are.

Over the past year, weve seen people across the country use technology and social media to build relationships, relationships that have been essential to pressing for change and surfacing stories on all levels. In this moment, our access to information—and to each other—is unparalleled.—As told to John Gravois

Leann Mueller

Jen Welter

Preseason Coach for the Arizona Cardinals

Welter was a training-camp and preseason intern for the Arizona Cardinals, working with inside linebackers. Shes the first woman to coach in the NFL.

I grew up in Vero Beach, Florida, where football is kind of a religion. The whole town shuts down for games, and we would all go. I played other sports, like tennis, and team sports, including rugby, in college, but I was just fascinated by football. Right after I graduated, I went to an open tryout for a womens team, the Massachusetts Mutiny. And I realized, “This is where Im meant to be.” I left my business career to do it, and the most I was ever paid was literally $1 a game. I love everything about the game. Its full-contact chess. Most people dont realize how smart it is. The strategy is what makes it so great.

There wasnt any thought about a career path with the NFL. Wed joke that it was the No Female League. So when I got the chance to coach this past preseason with the Arizona Cardinals, it was always strange to me when people would say, “Youre in the NFL now, youre living your dream.” Well, no, this wasnt a dream I was ever even permitted to have. I think that part of what Im most proud of is that now other little girls can have that dream.

When youre working with the players, you quickly realize that when you can help them, theyre happy. You have to show them that you have the knowledge and the respect for the game. But you also have to connect with them as people. Before the first preseason game, I wrote the guys notes—just reminders of things wed worked on—and left them in their lockers. It didnt occur to me that theyd never had that happen before. I dont know that it was about being a female coach or because I have a doctorate in sports psychology, but it felt natural to me.—As told to Mark McClusky

HAIR BY DAVID VALDEZ; MAKEUP BY JOEY E. ALONZO

Robyn Twomey

Ronda Rousey

Mixed Martial Arts Champion

Rousey (above, with her dog Mochi) is an MMA champion and action movie star.

On authenticity: Ill let thousands of people boo me as long as I feel I was honest and authentic. That way, when I do something later that the fans like, they know it was genuine and not staged. I wouldnt shake Miesha Tates hand after I beat her the second time, but I gave Cat Zingano a hug and a kiss after we fought, because I truly empathized with her in that moment.

On the decision to turn pro: My mom was the senior statistical consultant at the University of Southern California. She really wanted me to go to college. I said I wanted to do MMA. She said it was the stupidest idea shed ever heard and that I had to grow up. I asked her to give me one year to make the MMA thing work, and if it didnt, Id go to college or become a rescue swimmer for the Coast Guard. And 20 days short of a year after my pro debut, I won the world title.

On helping get women into professional mixed martial arts: The model that I used for womens MMA, I got from reading The Tipping Point, by Malcolm Gladwell—like how to start fads and being a connector. And then I love the thing he wrote about Hush Puppies, about getting just one key cool group of people into something and then it suddenly becomes cool and takes off. In MMA I tried to appeal to a cooler inside group in the beginning.

On playing the bad guy: Id rather be a genuine and interesting bad guy than a boring fraud of a hero. I mean, the Joker is just so much more interesting than Batman. But sometimes Im the good guy when I fight too. Im whatever Gotham City needs me to be.—As told to Adam Rogers

HAIR BY ABRAHAM J. ESPARZA; MAKEUP BY HEE SOO KWON

Robyn Twomey

Tristan Walker

Founder and CEO of Walker & Company

Walkers startup, Walker & Company, sells health and beauty products designed for people of color. He is cofounder of CODE 2040, a program that places minority students in tech internships.

I grew up in the projects. My mom was very strict and wanted me to succeed. I was part of the Boys Club of New York after-school program and was encouraged to apply to get a full ride to Hotchkiss, a prestigious boarding school. I got in, and it was the first time that I understood what wealth was. I knew I wanted to be rich.

After college I started working on Wall Street at Lehman Brothers. One day the most senior black managing director, William Lighten, called me into his office and gave me some advice. He said, “Tristan, you want to spend the first third of your life learning, the second third earning, and the last third returning—giving back through philanthropy.” That really changed my thinking. Since I didnt like Wall Streets toxic culture—it was just before the meltdown in 2008—I knew I needed to do something entrepreneurial to create my wealth. So I went to Stanford Graduate School of Business and the first year also worked as a full-time intern at Twitter. Later I was the first head of business development at Foursquare.

I came up with the idea for Walker & Company while I was an entrepreneur-in-residence at Andreessen Horowitz. Today we have about 20 people—the majority are minorities, the majority are women. A lot of employers say these folks dont exist. Theyre full of it. They do exist. And they want to find great work that they can get behind.

Silicon Valley really isnt a better place to be a black tech exec than when I started in 2008. Yes, there are companies trying to mitigate bias, but theres still work to do. Thats why I helped found CODE 2040.

I wanted to work on Wall Street because I saw black leaders like Stan ONeal at Merrill Lynch. Who are those archetypes to aspire to in tech?—As told to Jessi Hempel

Leann Mueller

Jen Welter

Preseason Coach for the Arizona Cardinals

Welter was a training-camp and preseason intern for the Arizona Cardinals, working with inside linebackers. Shes the first woman to coach in the NFL.

I grew up in Vero Beach, Florida, where football is kind of a religion. The whole town shuts down for games, and we would all go. I played other sports, like tennis, and team sports, including rugby, in college, but I was just fascinated by football. Right after I graduated, I went to an open tryout for a womens team, the Massachusetts Mutiny. And I realized, “This is where Im meant to be.” I left my business career to do it, and the most I was ever paid was literally $1 a game. I love everything about the game. Its full-contact chess. Most people dont realize how smart it is. The strategy is what makes it so great.

There wasnt any thought about a career path with the NFL. Wed joke that it was the No Female League. So when I got the chance to coach this past preseason with the Arizona Cardinals, it was always strange to me when people would say, “Youre in the NFL now, youre living your dream.” Well, no, this wasnt a dream I was ever even permitted to have. I think that part of what Im most proud of is that now other little girls can have that dream.

When youre working with the players, you quickly realize that when you can help them, theyre happy. You have to show them that you have the knowledge and the respect for the game. But you also have to connect with them as people. Before the first preseason game, I wrote the guys notes—just reminders of things wed worked on—and left them in their lockers. It didnt occur to me that theyd never had that happen before. I dont know that it was about being a female coach or because I have a doctorate in sports psychology, but it felt natural to me.—As told to Mark McClusky

HAIR BY DAVID VALDEZ; MAKEUP BY JOEY E. ALONZO

Robyn Twomey

Ronda Rousey

Mixed Martial Arts Champion

Rousey (above, with her dog Mochi) is an MMA champion and action movie star.

On authenticity: Ill let thousands of people boo me as long as I feel I was honest and authentic. That way, when I do something later that the fans like, they know it was genuine and not staged. I wouldnt shake Miesha Tates hand after I beat her the second time, but I gave Cat Zingano a hug and a kiss after we fought, because I truly empathized with her in that moment.

On the decision to turn pro: My mom was the senior statistical consultant at the University of Southern California. She really wanted me to go to college. I said I wanted to do MMA. She said it was the stupidest idea shed ever heard and that I had to grow up. I asked her to give me one year to make the MMA thing work, and if it didnt, Id go to college or become a rescue swimmer for the Coast Guard. And 20 days short of a year after my pro debut, I won the world title.

On helping get women into professional mixed martial arts: The model that I used for womens MMA, I got from reading The Tipping Point, by Malcolm Gladwell—like how to start fads and being a connector. And then I love the thing he wrote about Hush Puppies, about getting just one key cool group of people into something and then it suddenly becomes cool and takes off. In MMA I tried to appeal to a cooler inside group in the beginning.

On playing the bad guy: Id rather be a genuine and interesting bad guy than a boring fraud of a hero. I mean, the Joker is just so much more interesting than Batman. But sometimes Im the good guy when I fight too. Im whatever Gotham City needs me to be.—As told to Adam Rogers

HAIR BY ABRAHAM J. ESPARZA; MAKEUP BY HEE SOO KWON

Robyn Twomey

Tristan Walker

Founder and CEO of Walker & Company

Walkers startup, Walker & Company, sells health and beauty products designed for people of color. He is cofounder of CODE 2040, a program that places minority students in tech internships.

I grew up in the projects. My mom was very strict and wanted me to succeed. I was part of the Boys Club of New York after-school program and was encouraged to apply to get a full ride to Hotchkiss, a prestigious boarding school. I got in, and it was the first time that I understood what wealth was. I knew I wanted to be rich.

After college I started working on Wall Street at Lehman Brothers. One day the most senior black managing director, William Lighten, called me into his office and gave me some advice. He said, “Tristan, you want to spend the first third of your life learning, the second third earning, and the last third returning—giving back through philanthropy.” That really changed my thinking. Since I didnt like Wall Streets toxic culture—it was just before the meltdown in 2008—I knew I needed to do something entrepreneurial to create my wealth. So I went to Stanford Graduate School of Business and the first year also worked as a full-time intern at Twitter. Later I was the first head of business development at Foursquare.

I came up with the idea for Walker & Company while I was an entrepreneur-in-residence at Andreessen Horowitz. Today we have about 20 people—the majority are minorities, the majority are women. A lot of employers say these folks dont exist. Theyre full of it. They do exist. And they want to find great work that they can get behind.

Silicon Valley really isnt a better place to be a black tech exec than when I started in 2008. Yes, there are companies trying to mitigate bias, but theres still work to do. Thats why I helped found CODE 2040.

I wanted to work on Wall Street because I saw black leaders like Stan ONeal at Merrill Lynch. Who are those archetypes to aspire to in tech?—As told to Jessi Hempel

Peter Yang

Common & Mahalia Hines

A Hip Hop Artist and His Mother, An Educator

Common is a Grammy- and Oscar-winning artist and activist.

My mother has been a true example of the diligence, commitment, and passion it takes to drive kids to excellence. That will be her legacy—bringing that to Chicago.

At home, education was something that was celebrated, something that was valuable. All of my friends knew that if I didnt do well, then I wouldnt be able to hang out. She had me in a computer class at the Museum of Science and Industry, and I would have to read books that she gave me to read—all in addition to school. Whether you know it or not at the time, all of that is feeding you: Its giving you not only a foundation of education but also discipline. We established the Common Ground Foundation in 1998 to help better equip kids when theres no support system. I was inspired by seeing what shes done as an educator, going beyond just teaching kids to truly caring for the community. I had a great support system and family at home, and I always felt like I saw people who didnt have that, and I wanted them to have it. That was the seed.

Dr. Hines is Commons mother and a member of the Chicago Board of Education.

Mine was the first generation in my family to go to college, and education was always first and foremost in my life. Common always did extremely well, but I also treated my students as my own. I had the same expectations for them that I had for my own. I gave the best of me and expected the very best of them back.

I taught for 12 years in Chicago public schools, and I was a principal for 17, mostly at John Hope in Englewood. Its always been a tough neighborhood. Many of the opportunities that are afforded to different parts of Chicago are not afforded to those kids. I felt that if the children at John Hope were given the same opportunity that other children were given—and if they knew that you loved them—then they would thrive.

Things are getting better. Im excited that we have people who went to our schools now running our schools. In addition, math and science are big priorities—we have the most comprehensive K-12 computer science program of any major school district in the nation. To bridge the divide between the haves and have-nots, we need technology.—As told to Peter Rubin

WARDROBE BY MICAELA ERLANGER; GROOMING BY GASTON NUNES

Leann Mueller

Kimberly Bryant

Founder of Black Girls Code

Bryants Black Girls Code organization has taught computer science skills to more than 4,000 girls in nine cities around the world.

My daughter was never into combing dolls hair and playing with Barbies. She was into Legos and building things and playing with her Game Boy. By the time she was in middle school, she was old enough to go to an overnight summer coding camp. It was life-changing for her. She loved it. But the thing I noticed at the camp was that there were very few girls in the classroom. And there was one student of color. That was her.

It really resonated with me because, growing up, I was a tagalong little sister who always wanted to prove that even though I was a girl, I could do things my older brother did. He was a techie, so I made myself get involved with tech too. And he hated it. He just didnt welcome me following him around, trying to play videogames with him and his friends.

But I stuck with it, and by high school my guidance counselors said engineering might be a good career for me. They both were black women who really helped me to set high expectations for myself. Having those mentors was absolutely key for me. I dont know that I could have done it without them.

So seeing my daughters camp was a wake-up call. I didnt want her to lose this interest in tech just because the only other kids who were interested in it were boys who werent inviting her to the circle. That led me on the path to creating Black Girls Code.

We really didnt plan on growing as big as we are. Initially, I just wanted to take money out of my savings and send a group of girls to the same summer camp, so my daughter wouldnt be alone. But now were in nine cities, and each of those chapters reaches between 200 and 500 students a year. Thats a lot of little black and brown girls learning to code, and I just know that many of our students are going to go on to become leaders in technology. I have absolutely no doubt.—As told to Issie Lapowsky

King won 39 grand-slam titles, including a record 20 career titles at Wimbledon. She won a so-called battle-of-the-sexes match against Bobby Riggs in 19731.

When I was 11, my friend Susan Williams took me to her country club. Thats where I first played tennis. And I said to myself, “Im not going to be able to play much, because we dont have the financial means.” But not long after that, I found out that the city offered free lessons in the public parks. Thats when I went home and told my parents I wanted a racket.

When I was 12, I started to play tournaments. I realized everybody in my sport wore white socks, white shoes, white clothes, and played with white balls—and everybody who played was white. I didnt like it. I asked myself, where is everybody else? I went to Long Beach Poly High School. It was very diverse. So I didnt like that the sport of tennis was so white. That was my epiphany. I promised myself I would fight for equal rights and equal opportunities for boys and girls for the rest of my life.

In my own little 12-year-old way, I knew I could use tennis for that. I knew it was a platform and an opportunity, because people would notice me. Arthur Ashe and I were born the same year, and I think there was something about being born in that time, at least for tennis. We just dug in with the social justice. My generation fought very hard to get representation at the table.

The kids today expect everyone to have a place at the table. They walk in and say: “Youre all going to talk. Everybody has a voice.” If theres a problem, they get their computers out and their phones out and say, “Lets go. Were going to solve this.”—As told to Jessi Hempel

GROOMING BY BRYNN DOERING/AUBRI BALK, INC.

1UPDATE 6 PM PST 11/30/15: The battle-of-the-sexes match took place in 1973, not 1979 as previously reported.

Peter Yang

Common & Mahalia Hines

A Hip Hop Artist and His Mother, An Educator

Common is a Grammy- and Oscar-winning artist and activist.

My mother has been a true example of the diligence, commitment, and passion it takes to drive kids to excellence. That will be her legacy—bringing that to Chicago.

At home, education was something that was celebrated, something that was valuable. All of my friends knew that if I didnt do well, then I wouldnt be able to hang out. She had me in a computer class at the Museum of Science and Industry, and I would have to read books that she gave me to read—all in addition to school. Whether you know it or not at the time, all of that is feeding you: Its giving you not only a foundation of education but also discipline. We established the Common Ground Foundation in 1998 to help better equip kids when theres no support system. I was inspired by seeing what shes done as an educator, going beyond just teaching kids to truly caring for the community. I had a great support system and family at home, and I always felt like I saw people who didnt have that, and I wanted them to have it. That was the seed.

Dr. Hines is Commons mother and a member of the Chicago Board of Education.

Mine was the first generation in my family to go to college, and education was always first and foremost in my life. Common always did extremely well, but I also treated my students as my own. I had the same expectations for them that I had for my own. I gave the best of me and expected the very best of them back.

I taught for 12 years in Chicago public schools, and I was a principal for 17, mostly at John Hope in Englewood. Its always been a tough neighborhood. Many of the opportunities that are afforded to different parts of Chicago are not afforded to those kids. I felt that if the children at John Hope were given the same opportunity that other children were given—and if they knew that you loved them—then they would thrive.

Things are getting better. Im excited that we have people who went to our schools now running our schools. In addition, math and science are big priorities—we have the most comprehensive K-12 computer science program of any major school district in the nation. To bridge the divide between the haves and have-nots, we need technology.—As told to Peter Rubin

WARDROBE BY MICAELA ERLANGER; GROOMING BY GASTON NUNES

Leann Mueller

Kimberly Bryant

Founder of Black Girls Code

Bryants Black Girls Code organization has taught computer science skills to more than 4,000 girls in nine cities around the world.

My daughter was never into combing dolls hair and playing with Barbies. She was into Legos and building things and playing with her Game Boy. By the time she was in middle school, she was old enough to go to an overnight summer coding camp. It was life-changing for her. She loved it. But the thing I noticed at the camp was that there were very few girls in the classroom. And there was one student of color. That was her.

It really resonated with me because, growing up, I was a tagalong little sister who always wanted to prove that even though I was a girl, I could do things my older brother did. He was a techie, so I made myself get involved with tech too. And he hated it. He just didnt welcome me following him around, trying to play videogames with him and his friends.

But I stuck with it, and by high school my guidance counselors said engineering might be a good career for me. They both were black women who really helped me to set high expectations for myself. Having those mentors was absolutely key for me. I dont know that I could have done it without them.

So seeing my daughters camp was a wake-up call. I didnt want her to lose this interest in tech just because the only other kids who were interested in it were boys who werent inviting her to the circle. That led me on the path to creating Black Girls Code.

We really didnt plan on growing as big as we are. Initially, I just wanted to take money out of my savings and send a group of girls to the same summer camp, so my daughter wouldnt be alone. But now were in nine cities, and each of those chapters reaches between 200 and 500 students a year. Thats a lot of little black and brown girls learning to code, and I just know that many of our students are going to go on to become leaders in technology. I have absolutely no doubt.—As told to Issie Lapowsky

Billie Jean King

Tennis Champion

King won 39 grand-slam titles, including a record 20 career titles at Wimbledon. She won a so-called battle-of-the-sexes match against Bobby Riggs in 19731.

When I was 11, my friend Susan Williams took me to her country club. Thats where I first played tennis. And I said to myself, “Im not going to be able to play much, because we dont have the financial means.” But not long after that, I found out that the city offered free lessons in the public parks. Thats when I went home and told my parents I wanted a racket.

When I was 12, I started to play tournaments. I realized everybody in my sport wore white socks, white shoes, white clothes, and played with white balls—and everybody who played was white. I didnt like it. I asked myself, where is everybody else? I went to Long Beach Poly High School. It was very diverse. So I didnt like that the sport of tennis was so white. That was my epiphany. I promised myself I would fight for equal rights and equal opportunities for boys and girls for the rest of my life.

In my own little 12-year-old way, I knew I could use tennis for that. I knew it was a platform and an opportunity, because people would notice me. Arthur Ashe and I were born the same year, and I think there was something about being born in that time, at least for tennis. We just dug in with the social justice. My generation fought very hard to get representation at the table.

The kids today expect everyone to have a place at the table. They walk in and say: “Youre all going to talk. Everybody has a voice.” If theres a problem, they get their computers out and their phones out and say, “Lets go. Were going to solve this.”—As told to Jessi Hempel

GROOMING BY BRYNN DOERING/AUBRI BALK, INC.

1UPDATE 6 PM PST 11/30/15: The battle-of-the-sexes match took place in 1973, not 1979 as previously reported.